


After One's Own Heart

by Asderat



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Awkwardness, During Canon, First Time, Humor, Magic, Masturbation, Other, References Pre-Canon, Robot Kink, Robot Sex, Verrrrrry NSFW, Weird Biology, Would you smooch a ghost?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5080228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asderat/pseuds/Asderat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mettaton learns a few interesting things about his new body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After One's Own Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Everybody's mad about Undertale, so I thought I should join in on the fun.
> 
> You know what else everyone loves? Mettaton.
> 
> I couldn't resist doing a piece on him, so this came about.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Let me know if you guys find any typos, and I'll five them as soon as possible.)

It was really strange having a body like this, really.  
You used to be a ghost at one point. Nobody really knows where ghosts come from. Even the ghosts. They just kind of happen.

Alphys told you it theoretically could be something having to do with residual soul energy and other science mumbo-jumbo, but you don’t really remember much about it. Or care, for that matter.  
You weren’t always the strikingly handsome robot you are now. In your early days of having a physical form, and now to save energy, you stayed as a rectangle. A calculator on wheels. Definitely not as attractive as you are now. Not by a long shot.

You actually surprised yourself sometimes in your Ex form; just by looking at your new face. It certainly wasn’t familiar, and you would always feel the slightest jolt upon seeing yourself, as if the being staring back wasn’t you. But it was.

You only think about that now because you’re sitting in a desolate workroom in Alphys’ lab. She left a while ago, but you can still tell this is somewhere she usually inhabits.

Not by any sort of extra perception, but by the trashy anime figurines and comic-books littering the ground. And the food everywhere. There’s a can of soda opposite the work table you happen to be sitting on. You kind of want to tip it over.

You huff. Alphys ran off to get you some parts and wouldn’t be back for who knows how long.  
How are you supposed to entertain yourself in a place like this? You’re in for repairs on your Ex form and she ordered you to stay still she came back. You’d rather die before partaking in the trashy shoujo literature lying nearby.  
You were beginning to think you’d bust a circuit out of boredom before noticing the mirror. It was partially behind a bookshelf, but you could catch a glimpse of a robotic arm from the angle you’re sitting at.

Hmm.

Thoughts of boredom abandoned, you get up , legs buzzing from being asleep (weird!) and walk towards the mirror. The tap of your heels fill the silence of the room as you study the reflective glass. It is as tall as you are, and carefully positioning yourself lets you see nearly your whole physique in the reflection. Good. You’d rather not move things around or dirty yourself anyway.

You glance up to look at your own face.

There was that jolt again.

Upon inspection, it was very obvious that it was styled by Alphys to resemble a human from her shows and books. The astounding levels of nerdiness emanating from this obvious conclusion almost forces you to grimace.  
But the audience liked it, and that’s what matters, right?

You lean forward to study yourself. You are metallic of course, but your artificial muscles move seamlessly as you look about, giving the impression of natural life. Your eyes are surrounded by long, black lashes, and above them, perfectly shaped brows. You’ve been told your hair is supposedly silicone-like, and waves and moves as normal hair would but without frizzing or knotting. Looking into your own eyes is the only glimpse of familiarity. You can see yourself, your old form, your soul, through the purple irises of the automaton you are bound in. You smile in wary admiration, marveling at the flawlessness of Alphys’ work.

You knew Alphys was not much of a socialite, but there’s no doubt she was a genius all her own. When she wasn’t entertaining herself with human “history”, she would experiment and test. It was always a treat observing her work, brow furrowed and expression one of deep thought. She was truly magnificent in that regard.  
But nothing, to you, was as incredible as the creation of your body. She put all her work into it, day and night; a body for you. So you could experience life as other monsters do. To be able to touch and feel and know what it’s like to physically be there. You couldn’t have asked for a better gift, and she gave it to you. You can feel. You’re there. It is incredible; odd; dazzling.

And new.

Feeling, no, touching things, is a strange experience. Your artificial programming, grafted with your soul, is able to perceive sensation. It is something you are inexperienced in, especially since complex touch is reserved for your improved Ex form only.

You awake from your thoughts and realize something peculiar.

You’ve only stayed in your Ex form for shows, and for your encounter with that…human child. You’ve never really taken a close look at it, considering how new your body was. It almost struck you as amusing that you’d never actually taken the time to change forms specifically for said reason. The android in the mirror releases a machine-like, echoing chuckle, and a grin spreads over his features. There’s a mouth full of synthetic teeth and you catch a glimpse of a black tongue in the interior of the cavity.

This is so weird.

It occurs to you that your hand is reaching up to inspect the face in the reflection. You let it happen. Would it not be interesting to take a closer look?

You take off your gloves and let your hands brush against a cheek. The strange static of touch makes the reflection raise its eyebrows inquisitively. You travel across and feel your hair. Your fingers notice the softness of the strands. You run a hand through the black waves and against your scalp. It feels..relaxing?

You fiddle with a strand of hair for a moment. It was incredible how dark it all was. Almost abyss-like in color. It doesn’t take long to figure out , after moving to the eyebrows and lashes, that they are made of the same soft, synthetic black material.

The reflection’s mouth opens again. Is it actually safe to stick fingers in there?

You dispel the thought and gently feel your own lips. Huh. Nearly as soft as the hair, despite being made of steel. You have no idea how Alphys did it. You move past your lips and into the mouth. As expected, there’s no saliva. Bodily fluids are reserved for people who aren’t busy being robot superstars. The teeth are smooth, yet bumpy, excluding the canines, which end in a subtle point. How exactly do people use these things to eat? Sounds really unfortunate.

You touch your tongue once and flinch at how grossly malleable it is. Ok, hands out. You’re done with the tongue.

You debate stopping. Alphys could be here any minute and would likely be weirded out by the robot sticking his extremities in his mouth. The place you were sitting at before looks really tempting.

No.

What’s there to be afraid of?

You’ll see exactly what is up with this custom-made body. You’re stuck with it now, aren’t you? When’s the next opportunity an idol like yourself will be able to change and explore this again? You press on.

Turning again to face the mirror, you look yourself over and run a hand the length of your body. You are as slim as they come, bar your shoulders and legs, made wider by spikes and curvaceous hips. You thank the world for Alphys’ existence once again.

You do a few 360’s. You’re heels clack against the metal floor in response. You explore the upper half of your body with your palms, each time finding something new, feeling something new. A hand runs down the length of your chest and onto your midriff, and something odd happens. You try it again.

That was definitely something different.

You do it again. Your hands slips across your chest, and dip to your stomach. Upon hitting the area just below the chest, a strange reaction seems to occur.

There’s a strange, fluttering response in the pit of your abdomen. Your hand gets lower on your torso and the feeling becomes more intense. You can feel a spark of heat within the confines of your synthetic body.

You notice you’ve been staring at your hand for a while. You look up into the mirror.

Woah.

You are a bit shocked to discover that your face has changed since you last saw it. Replacing the curiosity you saw before is a wholly new expression; the eyes you see have a furrowed brow and the mouth you so recently traversed is opened slightly. It’s only then you realize how heavy your artificial breathing had become.

What in the world?

This has got to be some sort of glitch. You feel as if maybe you should sit down and wait for Alphys to come back so you can tell her about it…?

You shake your head. This is too intriguing to stop now.

You look back down and continue the ministrations. But a little harder. You press against the steel on your middle and feel yourself shiver. You detect a deep exhale as you feel your fingers catch slightly on the ends of metallic plates on your midsection. It’s interesting, but the catching kind of hurts, a little bit.

Wait.

…Hurts?

It suddenly becomes apparent why the sensitivity appears to be increasing while moving down. Your heart. Where your soul and integral circuitry is kept. It’s literally on the belt buckle right below where your hands are.

You realize you’re an idiot. Your hands quickly remove themselves from their descent.

You recall your fight with the human. Frisk. They had bested you, but you had the best ratings of your career.

But boy, did it hurt. It was one of your first experiences with the feeling of pain.It was an unpleasant, stabbing burn that spread across your whole body.

You remember releasing your strongest attacks from your soul to incapacitate the human.

You hit them a few times. Wounded their soul.

But their aim was better than yours.

You had hoped that your heart would take them down, but it just ended painfully via the relentless defense of an eight year old.

You thank your lucky stars for stopping when you did. How much would it have hurt if you messed with your actual soul? There’s no way that could end well.  
But, nagging at the back of your mind, was that curiosity from before. It couldn’t damage you if you just…poked around at it, right?

You resume your downward path, and you can’t help but inhale quickly in response to the stimulation. This just made continuing even more tempting.

This was honestly quite foolish. Alphys would not be happy if you made her job harder somehow.

And yet, that pleasant burning feeling in your gut urges you to continue.

You know you’re going to regret this somehow.

You look down at the belt like structure. Despite the room being bright, you can see your soul glowing faintly in the heart-shaped container. Your hand makes contact with the top of the belt. There’s not much going on there, pain or otherwise. It must be safe to go on.

You can feel yourself clench your teeth in worried anticipation as your digits make light contact with the very top of the pink box. A strange crackling noise rises in your throat, but you don’t let it escape. The warmth from earlier is beginning to pool in your lower abdomen, and you can feel your core heating up.

You let your fingers dip lower onto the container, noticing the brash sound of steel on steel.

This didn’t hurt at all. You gently rub the front of the container, and a soft whimper leaves your lips. It was surprisingly…enjoyable?

You suddenly realize what is happening.

Oh man.

You’re literally pleasuring yourself right now.

You’re robo-masturbating.

Oh good lord.

Ghosts can’t do it, but apparently this thing sure can. Well, that explains why you didn’t catch on until now. And you are pretty sure now that you aren’t glitching out.

You also acknowledge that you really don’t want to stop.

So you don’t.

You feel no more inclination to be gentle. You press a little harder experimentally, and you can feel yourself get a bit dazed as an electrical shock travels across your midsection. You barely stifle another sound from making its way out of you.

The caresses you employed earlier aren’t strong enough. You jam your thumb down hard on the surface of the heart. 

You can’t help but let out a weak, shaky moan as you dig the digit against the pink symbol.

You re-position your hands before roughly forcing more fingers into the fray.

You can feel the receptors in your cheeks flush as your breath hitches and comes out in a weighted, and loud, groan.

You start all but giving up trying to bite back the shamefully wanton noises emanating from you every time you get that wonderful electric feeling traveling up your spine.

It is explicitly unfamiliar, and yet incredibly enjoyable. Your hands shake every time you press, and your moans fill the room with sporadic bursts of noise. You feel like the body you inhabit is on fire.

Yet, somehow, you feel like this isn’t the most you could do. Your fingers were able to suffice, but you bet there’s something here that can make you enjoy this even more than you already are. You glance around in an impatient and aroused haze. Your eyes lock on to the object beside you.

Oh.

The table.

Yeah. You should totally grind against the table.

You pause and realize once again how risky, and more importantly, how incredibly inappropriate this is.  
Hmm.

Whatever.

You move towards the table you were sitting on. It has rough, squared edges.

Perfect.

The mechanical whir of movement is the only activity in the room before your hips make hard contact with the stand.  
Your lips, bitten in anticipation earlier, open to let out a drawn out groan.

The difference between your hands and this hard surface was kind of awesome.

It doesn’t take long to get the rhythm of it, either. Push against yourself, then pull back. Each shaky movement made the blaze in your abdomen grow ever stronger.

Your mind feels like it’s in a fog, and your hands are clenching the table almost painfully hard. You barely notice you interior cooling fans activating over the sound of sporadic panting.

You can feel the building tension in your stomach begin to reach breaking point. The heat is bubbling into your throat, releasing in echoed, shameful gasps and moans during each thrust.

You look towards the mirror and feel yourself briefly pause.

The reflection in the mirror seems more familiar. The receptors on the bot’s cheeks are pink, and his mouth is opened wide from his shallow, rapid breathing. His hair is draped around his face haphazardly, and his slim body shines from the lights above. Your eyes meet with reflection’s.

He’s you.

He’s really you.

You feel yourself suddenly spill over the edge with a gasp, electrical charge crackling from your heart and across your whole being in waves.

Oh wow.

Something inside you overheats and malfunctions.

Oh wait.

You’re totally shutting down right now.

Whoops.  
————————————————————————————————————————-

Alphys entered through the sliding door of the lab carrying a large box of wires and plates.  
That really, really sucked.

Nobody had the right mechanical parts she needed for miles. Only after reaching a shady monster in Snowdin did she get the machinery she needed.

She wiped the sheen of sweat off her scales with a temporarily free hand. Why did the Hotlands have to be so…well..  
Hot?!

The soda canister by the television was undeniably tempting.

No, not now. She needed to repair Mettaton. He’d been waiting for a few hours. That’s too long for someone like him.

She honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he left out of boredom. Or maybe he started posing so hard he broke all her things. Or tested out his weaponry on a stack of anime DVDs. Or did something else to destroy her property.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Ugh.

There’s no way you’re going to carry this whole thing all the way to him. He might as well help you if he’s still here.

“Mettaton!”

Her voice echoed but no reply came. She frowned. If he’s here, he’s ignoring her out of bored spite.

“Mettaton! I need you to take this stuff to the work bench! It’s really heavy!”  
Once again there was no reply.

She resorted to Plan B.

“Hey! You need repairs! You don’t want to dismantle yourself while broadcasting again, do you? What would your audience think?!”

The threat is met with no sassy rebuttals.

She’s almost certain he’s left the building.

“Why do I even try?” she muttered.

She became aptly aware of the growing strain on her arms. Might as well get it down to the work room, with our without his help.

He’d be back whining about something soon enough, and she could repair him then.

She stumbles up the escalator, nearly tripping on her own claws and tail multiple times in the process.

Stupid robot.

She makes it upstairs. She can’t see him anywhere and sighs deeply.

She walks, focusing on the box before tripping on something on the floor. The parts and the box fly.

She curses in anger after briefly recovering before turning to see the offending item.

It’s Mettaton.

Oh crap.

She scuttles as quickly as she can and looms over his body, scanning it in fear.

Oh God, oh God.

She is so worried that she almost checks his pulse. The robot’s pulse.

She’s panicking, and breathing rapidly. What’s the hell’s wrong with him?

Her claws graze over his framework worriedly, looking for abnormalities and finds nothing. She yelps in surprise as the metal burns her.

Why is he so hot?!?

In a rush, she flips him on his back.

A burst of scalding steam bellows from a set of wires poking from plating on his chest. She coughs painfully.

Her worry dies down after surveying the sight. It was obvious nothing serious was destroyed, but it must have shut him off. How did he manage to pull this off?! He had to have completely overheated himself to cause a blowout!

She examines the rest of him and arrives at his soul container. Her hand brushes over it and…there’s…paint on her hands? As if it had been ground off?

Heart damage took priority before anything else. She needed the minor repair kit.

She leaps up to her work-bench and grabs the kit by reaching herself across the table. Her hands touch something powdered.

She glances at it. It’s pink.

She notices the edge of the table has the mysterious powder concentrated on it.

Did he somehow cause such explosive damage just by falling on an edge?

She inspects it closely. No, it doesn’t look like a fall. It looks like the paint had been…ground…off…?

It only takes a moment for her eyes to widen in realization.

Oh.

She blushes in horror.

Oh my God.

Alphys turned to look at Mettaton’s motionless form. Her embarrassment quickly becomes regret. So much regret.

“…”

“Damn robot.”


End file.
